


What Kind of Name is Hannibal?

by MarkBrendanaQuits



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Crack, Crime, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Humor, Murder, Well I mean I try to be funny but ymmv
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarkBrendanaQuits/pseuds/MarkBrendanaQuits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a scale of Hannibal to Brooklyn Nine-Nine, how surprisingly competent are your detectives? Or, how Jake and Amy catch the Chesapeake Ripper for the FBI.<br/>Takes place probably somewhere mid-first-season for both shows.<br/>(I'll add more tags/characters/etc when they come up: this is still a work in progress!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot Dog Octopus

The scene was grotesque: the body lying in the middle of the kitchen, the _kitchen_ , with the victim’s intestines hanging around the room like party streamers. This was certainly the most disturbing thing the Nine-Nine had ever seen, and possibly one of the most disturbing things to happen in Brooklyn in a very long time.

Not that that would keep Detective Jake Peralta from cracking jokes.

“Damn, this is some sick stuff. And I was in Vietnam.”

“Jake, you were there a few years ago on vacation and this is,” Santiago took a deep breath, “hardly the time to joke.”

Rosa Diaz rolled her eyes at her coworkers, as she usually did when they engaged in this typical banter. She thought the scene was horrible and gross, as almost any person would, but she didn’t seem visibly disturbed. Diaz knew that this was all part of the job, and she never let the few emotions she felt get in the way of her work. Besides, it took a lot to disturb Rosa Diaz, and some would even call her heartless (although, to be fair, she did laugh at the Red Wedding episode of _Game of Thrones_ ).

“Peralta,” Captain Holt started in his eternally monotone voice, “this is not the time for your jokes and immaturity.” Holt turned to Amy. “What do we know, Santiago?”

“Well sir,” she started, always happy to be called on by her future mentor, “the victim is Jim Malis, 42, a former doctor at John’s Hopkins who lost his medical license after forging medical records to cover up his own mistakes. He tried to pin the blame on his nurses.”

“Maybe one of them killed him in revenge,” Holt added.

“I don’t know, I think that him moving a couple hundred miles away and losing his medical license would be punishment enough,” Santiago added.

“Yeah, and having to live with his mother? Definitely punishment,” Peralta added. Everyone stared at him for a short moment, disapprovingly. After a beat, Santiago continued briefing the Captain:

“The victim was found by his mother. The intestines around the room are his. His heart and kidneys are missing, removed surgically. Forensics places the time of death at around 8 AM, right after the victim’s mother left for her morning water aerobics classes.”

“Ew.”

“Jake, show some respect,” Santiago said, chiding her obnoxious coworker.

Holt turned to Santiago, and ordered her to interview the victim’s mother. She scurried off upstairs to talk to the traumatized woman with the determination she always carried.

Captain Holt had chosen the three detectives accompanying him wisely. Amy Santiago, of course, was professional, and would be determined to solve this case. Jake Peralta, despite his immaturity, was a damn good detective. And Rosa Diaz? Rosa wouldn’t let the horrific nature of the disgusting, disturbing case affect her mental state. Had Boyle witnessed the crime scene firsthand, he’d probably vomit up the amazing, obscure Italian food he’d eaten earlier that day. Had Terry gone, he’d probably never let his girls out of his sight again, and he’d probably need years of therapy. In fact, Holt was even worried about Jake’s involvement in the case. Underneath his obnoxious exterior, he was a rather emotional young man. Still, this was no time for jokes. What if the victim’s mother overheard his insulting wisecracks?

“Diaz, go search the apartment for any clues. Peralta, come speak to me over here.” Holt ordered. Holt and Peralta went to one corner of the apartment that was out of the way (and not covered in intestines) before Holt asked Peralta how he was holding up.

“Totally fine! I mean, the scene’s super gross, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I mean, I’ve seen some disturbing stuff. Crime scenes, graphic depictions of violence, the Red Wedding…” Peralta said, joking as usual (although he _did_ cry after the Red Wedding and it _did_ give him nightmares for a good week or two).

“Really,” Holt started, “because I know some may find this scene upsetting, and apparently some use humor to cope with their unwelcome emotions.”

“No, seriously Captain, I’m fine. I’m a cop, it’s what I do,” Jake said, nonchalantly. While leaving the room to go back to the crime scene, he added, “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Also don’t go to Florida. It’s hot as balls there.” Right after saying “balls,” the crime scene photographer shot him a dirty look.

Jake was used to it.

In Former-Doctor Malis’s room, Diaz confirmed her suspicions that the victim was a douchebag. Axe body spray? Check. Copious amounts of hair gel? Check. Books claiming that women are taking over and that men are actually disadvantaged in today’s society somehow? Check.

But the most interesting thing Diaz found was a crudely drawn picture of Malis himself, with a knife in his chest (she only really knew it was Malis from the fact that someone wrote “Dr. Malis= Satan’s asshole” on it, with arrows pointing to the subject of the drawing). There were 15 dicks in that drawing, not counting Malis himself (who was certainly a dick).  Diaz bagged the evidence and continued her search.

Meanwhile, Santiago was trying to talk to Malis’s elderly mother. The poor lady had gone through so much, and Santiago didn’t want to further her trauma, but she really needed information. After fifteen minutes of gross sobbing, she finally learned that Malis had only moved back in with her about a week prior. Before that, he had lived in Baltimore, Maryland, where he was a surgeon at John’s Hopkins. The victim’s mother said that, a year ago, Malis had an outburst and was sent to therapy for anger management. Then the whole “medical record forgery” thing happened, and then Malis was found dead on the ground with his intestines hanging around the room like gory Halloween decorations.

The four detectives met up back downstairs. “Well, it sounds like most of the information we need is in Baltimore,” Santiago stated.

“Wooh! Road trip!” Peralta added.

Diaz rolled her eyes again. “Peralta, if I have to sit in a car with you for more than an hour I will break your fingers off and feed them to starving dogs.”

A forensics man looked terrified.

Diaz was used to it.

“All right, Diaz, you can look for leads up here. Peralta, Amy, go down to John’s Hopkins and interview.”

“Oh, Captain, should we also go visit his psychiatrist? He’s also in Baltimore.” Santiago asked.

“Sure. What’s his name?”

“Hannibal Lecter, sir.”


	2. None Pizza with Left Beef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is a cannibal. Gina has to take a phone call. That's pretty much it, it's a small chapter.

_Perfection as always_ , Hannibal thought while eating his Beef (Human) Heart Confit with a smug grin on his face. He should have shared this meal with someone. Forcing people into unwitting cannibalism was certainly one of Hannibal’s favorite past times, sharing his recycling of the rude into brilliant, beautiful dishes. In fact, Hannibal had grown so accustomed to the thrill of sharing his meals with the FBI, literally feeding them the victims that they were seeking justice for, that eating alone seemed rather, well, lonely.

It was time for a dinner party.

 ***

Gina Linetti had just taken the _perfect_ selfie when the Nine-Nine's phone rang. _Rude_ , she thought, before reluctantly answering (or, you know, actually doing her job for once).

“NYPD, District Nine-Nine, this is Gina, how can I help you?” Gina asked, incredibly bored.

“This is Jack Crawford, FBI, may I speak to Captain Ray Holt?”

Gina looked over to Holt’s office and saw that he was alone, looking at paperwork.

“He’s busy,” Gina said, lying, “can I take a message?”

“Tell him that we might be able to help with the Malis case and I’m sending some agents up.”

“…I’m sorry what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a lot happens in this chapter, but that's why I'm posting chapter 3 right after. So enjoy.  
> If you don't know what None Pizza with Left Beef is then please google it because you are missing out on something beautiful.


	3. The Gay Pride Oreo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's therapy session with Hannibal is interrupted. The two meet Jake and Amy. It's awkward.

“I understand the Chesapeake Ripper just fine,” Will Graham said, “I see him and his murders every minute of every day. When I’m awake, when I’m asleep, he haunts me. He’s the one who’s getting away, slipping from my grip. It’s almost as if the more I see, the farther away he gets.”

Hannibal Lecter sat forward in his (presumably incredibly expensive) chair and asked a question he had asked so many times before: “What do you see, Will?”

(Honestly, he asked that question at least 5 times every session.)

Will Graham swallowed and furrowed his brows. “I see the faces of everyone I can’t save, and I see the Ripper mocking me. And I know the Ripper tries to kill only the rude, but what is rude exactly?”

Just at that moment, Will Graham’s cell phone rang.

 “Speak of the Devil,” Hannibal said, grinning.

“I’m sorry Hannibal, it’s Jack, I should take this.”

“No, please, I wouldn’t want to hold up an investigation.”

As Will answered Jack’s call, Hannibal went to his desk to give Graham the illusion of privacy. Not that Hannibal wasn’t still observing Will’s demeanor, imagining how he would taste as _choucroute garnie_ or _zrazy._ Hannibal furtively watched as Will answered his phone.

“What is it, Jack?”

“We might have another Ripper case that I need you to check out.”

Will sighed, closed his eyes, and put his head in his free hand. “Where this time?”

“Well, that’s the thing: Brooklyn.”

Will looked up, confused: “Jack, I’m no expert in geography, but Brooklyn’s decidedly not in the Chesapeake Bay area.”

The word “Chesapeake” caught Hannibal’s interest, and he looked up from perusing the objects on his desk.

“Yes, Will,” Jack started, sounding fairly annoyed and rather indignant, “I’m aware of that, but this murder seems to fit the profile: the surgical marks, the removal of organs, the presentation…”

“I’ll be there, Jack,” Will said before hanging up. He was too tired for this shit. He got up and looked at Hannibal.

“The Chesapeake Ripper is expanding his horizons?” Hannibal asked.

Will grabbed his coat. “We’re about to find out, apparently.” He opened the door into Hannibal’s waiting room, the noted psychiatrist right behind him. As he did so, Will was immediately bombarded by two young detectives.

“Dr. Lecter, I presume? NYPD, I’m Jake Peralta and this is my partner Amy-“

“Excuse me but this is a private exit for my patient” Hannibal said, cutting off the young, incorrect detective while wondering why this kept happening to him. How could this detective think Will was Hannibal? Will wasn’t wearing a suit. Will wasn’t even wearing a _tie_. Professionals always wore ties.

“Oh! You’re the psychiatrist dude! Awkward! My B!” Jake said, trying to rectify the situation by making it worse. Hannibal simply stared at Jake in disbelief. Will was still standing there, awkwardly.

Amy turned to Hannibal, “we’d just like to ask you a few questions about your former patient, Jim Malis?”

Will let out a small chuckle. “What are the odds,” he said, “I’m Will Graham, I’m your FBI consult.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even remember what "choucroute garnie" or "zrazy" are, I basically just looked up fancy-looking meat dishes.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, woah, cliffhanger!  
> The chapter title is named after these things: http://www.kcet.org/living/food/image/assets/HotdogOctopusFinal.jpg  
> This is my first real, multi-chapter fic (and the first fic I've written in years) so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
